


Ch. 4  "Realization"

by Mooninscorpio



Series: Past Present & Future: John Reese [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-13
Packaged: 2018-02-08 18:10:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1951071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mooninscorpio/pseuds/Mooninscorpio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few weeks after John and Harold's first reunion and revelation of their true feelings for each other, they bump into one another unexpectedly in the most unlikely of places in the city, on Xmas Eve.  Although both are on guard for Samaritan's ever present threat of elimination, they are temporarily safe within the thick walls surrounding them, as they make plans to follow each other back to Harold's place.  Bear greets John, deliriously happy to see his always-Alpha master again.  Harold tells John about the latest news concerning his sighting and chance meeting with one of their Assets, and as the temperature drops and the snow falls much more heavily, Harold invites John to stay over for Xmas.  Realization sets in for both that Christmas comes but once a year, and true love comes only once in a lifetime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ch. 4  "Realization"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TimelessDreamer2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimelessDreamer2/gifts).



Ch. 4 "Realization"

Two 0'clock Xmas Eve afternoon: John clocked out early from the DHL garage, and made his way up towards 51 St. to catch the bus downtown towards home. The wind turned ice cold, and heavy, gray-white snow clouds slowly dragged across the sky, making it appear like dusk. Last minute gifts and twinkling colored lights beckoned last minute Xmas shoppers, leaving early from work just as John did. His boss Leo, decided that Jim (John) could leave early, as he worked 12 straight hours the day before, shouldering a coworker's extra holiday deliveries. Leo even gave his taciturn employee a small envelope with a cash bonus for the holidays, with a quick "Happy holidays to you bro, you're not even here a year and you're always busting your ass every day for me. Get something nice for yourself for Xmas." he said as he clapped Jim across the shoulder blades on his way out. John nodded his surprised thanks, shook his hand and stepped out into the frigid air, feeling satisfied that the cash bonus would come in handy for some much needed winter wear, as he had just the essentials to live on for his simplified lifestyle as John Baer now. Yet, cold as he was, John walked with a much lighter step and mood, recalling his deeply memorable reunion with Harold almost 2 1/2 weeks ago…

John crossed at 51st. and Madison Ave. glancing up at the familiar Neo-Gothic spires of St. Patrick's Cathedral. The crowd of people outside its poinsettia-decorated doors pressed around him as he slowed his pace down to weave through the holiday tourists. On a sudden impulse, he decided to step inside to warm up and sit quietly for a few moments at least, before going home. John had passed by the iconic cathedral multiple times but never thought to enter, his life now becoming just as fast paced as every other person's in the city. It was too easy for him to rush home, evading any extra time wasted on the streets where he might be surveilled by Samaritan's cyber eye. Today though, he found his way inside the newly renovated church. He sat, staring at the tinted windows above the altar, marveling at their deep royal blue color against the soaring, pristine white marble arches above the impressive altar. Habitually, on the alert, he slowly scanned the small groups of tourists and Xmas Eve churchgoers, searched the exits, looked for hidden security cams. He sat behind a pillar close to a side altar softly illuminated with votives. It was only then, that he allowed himself to sink back into the pew, temporarily reasoning to himself that churches, being separate from state and government was possibly one of the last few places where Samaritan wouldn't invade the public's freedom to worship. He closed his eyes for a moment, thinking of Harold and himself, last time they were together. Then the familiar regretful thoughts streamed through his mind about Joss, Jessica, and his long gone parents, his chances for his own wife and family practically nil, even living in his thinly crafted identity. Too many background checks, too many explanations for about his life to reveal to a future love interest. He knew that John Baer's identity was a tenuous one at best and sooner or later, Samaritan would find him and the rest of the 6 persons of interest, and then blessedly, he'd be killed and his life of being hunted would be over forever. He opened his eyes, staring at a a winged seraphim perched above the column in front of his pew.

As he looked down towards the front altar, he saw a figure off to the side, wearing a dark brown winter jacket, and mock Russian fur hat, slightly limping up his aisle, carrying a small bag. Staring intently, John's eyes widened in shock as he saw the man limping up along his aisle. It was none other than Harold - in church of all places! They had never discussed religion or the lack of it either, in all their time together. Maybe he decided to come in from the cold weather to warm up his stiff joints. John stood up suddenly as Harold walked within 20 ft. of him. Harold saw the tall, slightly graying man with a stubble, blue eyes gazing questioningly at him. Harold caught his breath, then stopped and slowed his limping. He bowed his head and slid into John's pew about 5 feet away, keeping his eyes forward, and his body still, despite his inner excitement and turmoil at seeing the ex-vigilante.  
"Harold, what are you doing here?" John's voice was barely audible but Harold heard every syllable. Harold's look of surprise mirrored his own as he whispered back, "thought I'd ask you the same thing"  
"It was cold outside, thought I'd come in for a little while & warm up before going home." Harold continued to explain. " My book store is closed today and I was uptown at the oriental shop for some more Sencha" Harold explained. He gazed at John closely and his eyes softening, adding, "but I don't have anyone for company as I have my tea - it's Christmas Eve John, any plans?"  
John finally stared into Harold's light blue eyes and just shook his head silently. Harold bent his head low, and whispered for his ears only.  
"Come to my place, you remember my address and apartment, don't you? Just pace yourself at least 1/2 hour after I leave here. Should be there in a half hour. I have some new developments to update you on. " John listened keenly slightly leaning towards him. It could only be news about their other friends, or about the Machine. John looked at his watch, buttoned his coat and rising, he nodded to Harold, "Im leaving now to run an errand and will be at your place at four. That'll give you time to unwind and for me to take another route to your place. " Harold smiled slightly at John's habitual caution. Harold rose to leave, gathered his bag and cane and with a quick "Godspeed" he left the pew noiselessly. John took the side door back out into the cold, noisy streets.

3:50 P.M.: John took the crowded express bus back to the West Village and trudged softly through the sticking one inch snow, passing the quaint brownstones lining Harold's neighborhood. Holiday signs in Italian and Polish framed their curtained entrances and John smelled the anisette odors emanating from the small bakery on the corner of Harold's street. He stopped inside quickly, and bought two dozen holiday cookies and a Yule-log loaf to go with Harold's tea. He slowed his pace, as he climbed the front steps two at a time with his long legs. He pressed Harold's buzzer and announced himself as "Jim" while his eyes darted above, to search for any surveillance cams. There were none. The Italians in the neighborhood didn't like being watched just as much as he didn't. John silently thanked Cosa Nostra as he unzipped his jacket. He heard Harold's limping gait pause as he clicked the peephole open, hastily opening the door to let him in. Harold's lopsided little grin warmed his soul as he removed his coat placing it over the small chair in the foyer. Harold was treated to the sight of John wearing an off white knit sweater, with a midnight blue shirt underneath. John had changed quickly at work, just before leaving his shift. John took a seat at Harold's small dining room table and placed the baked goods in center. "Thought these might go with your tea, baked them myself in my spare time." he dryly remarked. Harold thanked him and a fleeting moment's memory of John walking into the Library, with coffee, tea and donuts how Bear nibble and lick the frosting before John knew what he'd done. Harold turned suddenly towards the bedroom, as Bear woke up from his nap. Hearing the commotion and recognizing John's scent, he charged straight into John's waiting arms, deliriously wagging and whining in happiness at seeing his beloved alpha master again. Harold remembered the day John returned to the Library after being held at Riker's, and the rare smile of happiness on John's face as he looked at him and Bear, and the sight of the loyal Malinois wrestling him to the floor, was the best thing he'd seen in those tense weeks. Harold had made a fresh pot of coffee for John, and already had it made just the way he liked it. After appreciatively taking a few sips, John got straight to the point.

"So tell me Harold, what are these new developments you mentioned?" he looked directly into Harold's eyes.  
"John" Harold began slowly. "Last week, I was near the Eight Precinct, to drop off some mail for the book store at the post office. I was just leaving when I looked across the street. I saw Detective Fusco standing with a younger cop, looked like a young man in his early 30's. I began to walk in a hurry, trying to avoid him, towards my car that I'd parked a half block away. He saw me, and followed me alone. I presume his partner was given something else to do to distract him."  
"What did he say Harold?" John leaned into the table impatiently.  
"As you can guess, it was a very quick conversation, though he was very relieved that I was still in NY, and quite colorfully asked what the hell happened to me, you and the team --" Harold raised an eyebrow adding, "he called you Tall, dark and distant." John smirked and crossed his long legs over Harold's other chair.  
Harold grew serious again, and continued.  
"He said his job at the precinct had become very chaotic and the crimes more violent, with random shootings every other day, right in broad daylight, no rhyme or reason behind these shootings, only that -" Harold, shook his head desperately.  
"Only that, now people were being shot mostly at close range, or behind their backs, without the police being able to trace these killers. Just like the old Mafia style hit jobs. Fusco called them "hit and run" killings." Harold gave John a few moments to digest the bad news. He poured John some fresh coffee, gliding the mug into his hands. "Fusco then told me the development which I think is very interesting" John straightened up in his seat.  
"He said that he had spotted Cocoa Puffs, er, - Root, in Central Park, walking with two dogs, one of which appeared to look like a Malinois like Bear. He said that she spotted him but didn't want to come closer. She stood with the dogs, near the entrance to the park. He went over towards her, and made a pretense of petting the dogs, and as he got close enough to her, she bent down to pet the dogs and told him in a hurried conversation that she was fine, and that she was trying to resume a relationship with one of her old friends.  
Calling the friend, a she." John was almost burning his hands on the hot tea pot as Harold continued his update.  
"Fusco said that he would do all he could to help Root and us, as he somehow had a feeling we were in grave danger. But Root cautioned him to only get involved, if Root directly contacted him and not sooner, so as not to jeopardize him and his son's lives.  
I need her cooperation first she warned him. Fusco had asked her for her address and number, but she adamantly refused, saying it was still too dangerous. Then she walked away from him, leaving Fusco just as confused as ever. " Fusco gave me his direct cell number and home address and told me to pass it to you, should I ever see you again." Harold paused, suddenly looking at Reese strangely, as if attempting to piece together a puzzle in his mind.  
"Fusco said one more thing before I left." Harold continued, averting his gaze for a moment. "He said to thank you for making him a better man" Harold gazed at John silently as John colored at the words from Lionel. His thoughts went back in time to his Dad's bar in Colorado, the tough love conversation Lionel had pounded into his drunken head, about Joss, about the Numbers, about himself, Lionel, who was the misguided HR pawn, until John decided not to kill him at Oyster Bay on that long ago morning. John was only "a better man" only because he had begun to make better decisions, and that was The Machine's tutelage and the trust he had in Harold. "I was just the jackass sitting in back of his car, that gave him a second chance." At that moment, Harold remembered his initial look-in on Reese, when he didn't kill Casey, and gave him a second chance. Harold had seen something unique and valuable in a future Asset - a merciful restraint in saving a Number. Perhaps he'd unconsciously compared him to Dillinger and saw that Reese was a better fit for the Machine's mission. Now, John/Jim sat across from him, hiding in plain sight, right in his own humble apartment, a new man on the outside, the old one still trapped inside.

He rose and went to his small CD collection, under his tv. He chose one that John might enjoy - a holiday classic. The strains of Johnny Mathis singing "O Holy NIght" filled the modest living room. John had a small smile on his face as the crooner's voice filled the room. Time stood still as Harold turned towards him again. "It's beginning to snow harder John. It'll be a bear going home during rush hour. " He got up and walked over to the window, and looked out across the brownstones lining Harold's street and saw some windows begin to light up for Xmas. I don't want to go home too soon, to what? to no one but empty walls and no one there waiting for me… John felt Harold's light touch on his arm and heard him softly pleading,

"It's Christmas Eve John. The weather's getting colder. You're welcome to stay tonight." John turned to gaze at him and saw the subtle reflection of colored Xmas lights on his glasses. "I have a gift for you, besides…" Harold smiled. "Not as extravagant as the one I gave you for your birthday a few years ago."  
He coughed a little, looking at his surroundings and shrugged his shoulders. John started to protest.  
"But Harold - I didn't bring you a Christmas gift. I'd just come from work after seeing you." Harold waved his hand to silence him. "No, no John, I don't need any gifts. I've had my share of the good life, and even now, I have my little trifles. I just want you for Christmas." John saw the expression in Harold's eyes grow serious and saw the depths of his love there. It took John's breath away, the way Harold's mercurial moods went from light and social, to deeply caring. Just being here with Harold in the simplicity of their ordinary lives, for however long they'd survive these new identities. He would not waste this night, or these precious private hours together. Stay with him, say yes, say the words…Jessica had begged him eons ago. Harold felt John's hand on his shoulder, and then heard the heartfelt words, "Yes, I'll stay Harold. I just want you for Christmas too, Harold."

Harold smiled and reached for a small package on his desk in the bedroom. John followed him in. "Merry Christmas John." Harold handed him the small package, as they both down on Harold's bed. John slowly unwrapped the bow, and opening the box, pried the velvet lid open, John's eyes widened, as he saw the shiny black Luminox Navy Seal watch. John shook his head in disbelief, smiling incredulously. He knew the watch was not cheap, and Harold was no longer the billionaire with unlimited funds. He was working at a used bookstore, but who knows, Harold was used to wearing so many hats and personas, maybe he still had his funds in some Swiss bank somewhere. John thanked him enthusiastically, as his current watch was getting near the ten year mark.  
"Consider this a replacement for the one I smashed a year and a half ago. Recall the one Logan gave you with the CGS tracking device hidden inside?" Harold reminded John.  
"You probably saved my life again. He was a real pest of a Number." John shook his head. His fingers ran over the gleaming watch. Harold knew him through and through.

The next few hours were a blur as Bear played with John on the floor, Harold made several pots of tea and coffee, as they munched on the wonderful Italian holiday cookies, sliced and warmed up the Yule log cake, and reminisced about the various numbers they'd saved, wondering what fate had befallen some of them, such as the brave maid from Eastern Europe, the janitor whom Root did not kill, little Gen, who had gone off the private school in upstate New York, funded anonymously by Harold, and the young boy Reese had saved from the cartel. Harold saw John's expression soften at the mention of some of these younger Numbers and inwardly regretted how John would have been a fiercely protective father, had he been given the opportunity to lead a normal life. Harold had bought the watch for him shortly after their reunion, recalling his excellent military background in Special Forces and that it was the best side of John Reese's past that he still wanted John to acknowledge in himself despite everything that had happened to him, since that time.

"I didn't bring you a gift Harold" John began anew as later in the evening, Harold prodded him to try the watch on for size. The appealing voice of Johnny Mathis singing "Silver Bells", was heard in the background. Harold put his hands on John's chest, murmuring "I think I'll open this gift up," as Harold's slightly trembling hands gently pulled his sweater upwards , and seeing John's blue shirt highlight his beautiful eyes, he whispered as the snow fell, "I've been thinking of nothing else but the last time we were together. Our first time, and I hope we have many more times. John, --" Harold's months of loneliness without John and the most recent reunion two weeks ago, suddenly overwhelmed him, as he gazed into those beautiful eyes that haunted his dreams and waking hours. John's could barely whisper three words, as Harold led him into the simply furnished, quiet bedroom- nearly midnight in a few moments, Xmas almost drawing near. They embraced each other, silently waiting for midnight, with Bear curled contentedly beside the bed.

John gently lay Harold down, taking care not to cause him any pain or discomfort. He let Harold unbutton his shirt, and felt his cool deft fingers caress his scarred chest. Slowly, as the clock struck midnight, John kissed Harold deeply, his heart full of love and gratitude for all that he'd done to save his life from suicidal alcoholism and ill health on the streets. From bleeding out to death, by bomb vests, and saving him from his worst self many times over. Harold lived in physical painful hell every day of his life, with his genius mind trapped inside, still trying to save everyone worthy and even unworthy, like himself. John let Harold undress him, and held his hands over Harold's, guiding his hands over his belt buckle, and as they both unzipped his jeans. John closed his eyes, as Harold's smaller hands could barely hold all of him.  
"I've been thinking of nothing else too Harold, --as you can see." he stopped Harold's hands from moving any further. Harold saw the flushed face, John's eyes grow darker with desire. He felt years younger again, with this younger man above him in the dark. John was drawn to Harold's inexhaustible intellect and bravery in the face of danger, and knew he could unbridle his passionate side just seething below the surface. The thought of fulfilling Harold was all he wanted to do now. The sight of John's rapt expression, his strong, graceful body moving over his made Harold forget everything endlessly plaguing his mind. Minutes became hours, as John made love to Harold as if this was their last night on earth together. This went on all night, as Harold sometimes slept, then awoke to John's hands and lips awakening him, again unable to stop himself, and again, his body and mind willingly surrendered, as John held him protectively, until his body relaxed and his pulse slowed again.  
In the short hour before dawn, John dozed off and in half-sleep, he felt Harold moving above him, grasping his hips tightly. Fully awake now, he rolled Harold again onto his back, adjusting the pillows to cradle his neck.  
"I don't want you to strain Harold. I'll kneel above you…just go slowly, please… I've been waiting all night for this." he pleaded.  
"All right John, just tell me how you want me to." Harold's light blue eyes fastened on John's entire body, his mind thrilled that such a man wanted him, older, fused all over, almost impotent the doctors warned. No they were so very wrong there, he thought triumphantly. After his horrible accident, he had abstained out of bodily shame and the doctors' prognosis. Until John two weeks ago, and now again. Thanks to John, that part of him was whole, intact, despite the rest of his fused joints. As John made his wishes known, Harold gave back everything John had given him all night. Harold went slowly, lightly, and he was a master of the slow buildup which John especially loved. In his passion, Harold quoted some phrases seemingly, like poetry, which John, dazed at what Harold was doing, heard as, ""If you love let these be your desires."  
Harold's voice murmured in the morning stillness. "to melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night." More words and trailing hands on his body, now trembling. "to know the pain of too much tenderness…. to be wounded by your own understanding of love." Harold went reciting into John's ear. "And to bleed willingly and joyfully. When love beckons to you follow him, and when his wings enfold you yield to him," John was reaching the point of no return, as voice and hands and lips all blended now into one when he heard Harold's voice burned into his mind, and he felt Harold's hands pulling his thighs apart and reaching for him. "yield to me now, John…" John finally felt his body and mind tense, then release, splitting him into a million burning pieces inside.

************

8:00 A.M. CHRISTMAS MORNING

John opened his eyes, and looked towards the window. Snow covered the windowsill completely, and he heard Bear stirring beside the bed. He felt for Harold's place on the bed, which was empty. Through the half-opened bedroom door, he smelled fresh coffee, and heard the sounds of Harold in the kitchen making breakfast. How long has it been since he'd awakened to someone, anyone making breakfast for him? Jessica, his Army buddies sometimes, his sad teen years, a blur, as he made many breakfasts for his Mom after Dad passed away suddenly in that tragic fire. In a sudden realization, he looked at his new gift from Harold, his new watch. Harold had given him TIME, had saved his life from despair and suicide, had given him a job, a purpose and a second chance at redemption. He heard the distant sounds of church bells ringing. Christmas, his first Christmas in years, spent with someone he loved and who loved him back. What greater gift could he want than this, and whatever precious time was given to them to love one another here on earth.

John got out of bed, walked into the kitchen with Bear close behind his heels. Harold looked up from the pancakes and eggs he was cooking for them, and he saw the rare smile that lit up his entire face which John only showed when he was completely happy.

"Merry Christmas Harold" John greeted him, with great feeling in his voice.  
Harold put his utensil down, and a little smile formed out of the corner of his mouth, then spread to his reddened cheeks, and then his light blue eyes became warm and bright, as he echoed, "Merry Christmas, John." he gestured towards the coffee on the table, motioning him to sit at his place. Bear began sniffing at the pizelles near the edge of the table. John cleared his throat, and took a few sips, looking into his cup. Harold brought over their plates of neatly stacked pancakes and eggs.  
"Did you sleep a little last night?" he queried, "You were up quite a bit last night" he added with a gleam in his eyes.  
"Not much, just dozed -- it's okay though, I'll nap later on. I suppose you should be the one who's more tired, Harold" John teased. Harold's spirits soared, as he heard the banter again. How he'd missed all that from the good old days. Harold stopped his reminiscing. He suddenly realized that today was Christmas, they could possibly lead "normal lives" in this unpredictable hidden time and last night was what normal people did on a daily basis, something they could never have done when they were saving the Numbers. Was this part of the "hope" that Root alluded to, when she spoke of what remained at the bottom of the proverbial Pandora's Box?

"No, on the contrary John. I'm not tired at all. I feel… years younger, and today is Christmas, and you're here with me like you sh…"  
"should be" John finished his sentence, but his next thoughts spilled out unbidden.  
"but I know it's not the right time right now. I realize every day's not Christmas for us, for anyone." Bear licked John's hand as he ran his fingers along his collar.  
"If my number ever comes up again, there's no one I'd rather be with before I leave for the other side, than you Harold." John calmly spoke as he gazed at Harold steadily, wanting him to understand. Harold was saddened and deeply touched by John's revelation.  
"I'll be there for you John, you won't be alone." Harold vowed.  
"Thank you" John simply replied, as he began to pick up his fork. He put it down again, and with a small smile and smirk beginning to form on his face, he teased,  
"Hey Harold, that poem last night… "  
"Yeeesss ….? " Harold countered, his eyebrows arched at the implication.  
"D'ya mind reciting another one again…didn't know you were a poet, Harold." he grinned.  
"Mr. Reese, as I've told you before, I'm a very private person."


End file.
